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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135253">The Village</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot'>Onehelluvapilot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Hurt Percival (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Massacre, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:08:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,572</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135253</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and the Knights of Camelot ride out to investigate a massacred village and track down the perpetrators, but the setting brings back bad memories for Percival and Lancelot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lancelot &amp; Percival (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Village</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Betaed by Ligi</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They came to the village, or rather, where the village had been before it was razed to the ground. The charred remains of buildings lay around what had been the center square. The bodies, at least, had been buried already, the fresh graves in a line beside the blackened hull of the small church.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gods," Arthur muttered as he dismounted his horse. "Leon, how many survivors did you say there were?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just a dozen, sire. Mostly children."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Orphans now?" Lancelot asked, but from his tone it was clear he didn't have much hope about the answer. His hands were clenched so tightly around the reins of his horse that his knuckles were white, and unlike the others, he made no move to dismount. Leon nodded sadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Perhaps it would have been better if they had died,” Arthur remarked. "We will do what we can for them, of course, but to be homeless, with no parents-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you wish that I were not here, sire?" Lancelot snapped. Everyone turned sharply to look at him. The knight rarely raised his voice, especially at the king, and the honorific had been spat out in disdain. "You think I should have died as well when my village was raided and my family killed? If it offends you, sire, to have massacre survivors by your side, Percival and I can leave."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other men all stood in silence, stunned by his outburst. Lancelot glared at Arthur, who eventually mustered up a weak defense of "that's not what I meant." The knight just shook his head with a bitter huff before kicking his horse and riding out of the village.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll go after him," Percival and Merlin both said instantly, while everyone else was still just looking at each other trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Merlin, you stay," Arthur ordered. "I need someone to explain some things. Percival, you can go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don’t need your permission to look after a friend,” the big knight replied testily as he swung up onto his horse. Evidently, Lancelot wasn’t the only one who was mad at the king. He galloped after the other man, trying to catch up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached him not far outside the village. The knight had dismounted from his horse in a small clearing and was standing by her side, his head bent over her neck and his hands tangled in her mane. His shoulders heaved with silent sobs. Lancelot often tried to hide what he was feeling. The fact that he had snapped at Arthur and was crying now was a bad sign about how he was doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lancelot, is it alright if I come over closer to you?” Percival asked, dismounting his own horse and tying its reins to a nearby tree branch. He didn’t receive an answer, so he just had to hope his friend heard his approach and wouldn’t be too startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lancelot’s horse turned to look at him as he stepped closer, and he patted her snout gently to thank her for being so gentle with her rider and allowing him to support himself against her as he cried. The knight himself jolted when Percival laid a hand on his back, but didn’t flinch away. Not saying a word, he rubbed his back between his shoulder blades with one hand as his friend got it all out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually his sobs petered out and his hands stilled in their anxious clutching at his horse’s mane. Percival pulled him carefully into a hug, waiting until the other man raised his hands to hold him in return before tightening it. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Lancelot whimpered into his chest. “But given how I snapped at Arthur, I’ll probably have to, won’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin’s probably explained already. No one is going to make you talk about it if you don’t want to. Or make you go back into that village.” He felt as Lance shuddered at that thought, and knew he was right in his guess that the location was as much the reason for his breakdown as Arthur’s words. “I can ride back and tell them that you’ll wait out here. If you wanted, you could start to gather wood for a campfire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Lancelot said, shaking his head as he finally pulled back a little from where his face had been pressed into the nook of Percival’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to go back either. I’m sorry, I’ve been a terrible friend, I should have checked earlier if you were okay going there-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lance, it’s okay,” the other massacre survivor reassured him, rubbing a hand up and down his arm. “You had yourself to worry about. But you’re right, I’d rather not go back.” Being in that village had brought all kinds of memories to mind that he would rather have stayed buried. “I suppose the others will figure it out when we don’t come back, and they can come find us themselves. Now, do you want to go look for firewood?” Having something to do would be good for both of them, especially something helpful, since they both based so much of their self worth on their ability to do things for others. Percival always felt weak when he let his emotions get the better of him, and he suspected Lancelot was the same in that regard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds good,” Lancelot agreed with a shallow nod. He sounded exhausted, worn out no doubt by the stress of trying to push away his fears and unpleasant memories all day as they’d been riding out here, as well as the tears themselves. Percival vowed to not let them get too far apart if they split up to gather wood. He gently took the reins of Lancelot’s horse from where they were still clenched in his hand and led it over to tie up near his own mount. The two men wandered a little ways into the forest to collect dead wood. Percy need not have worried about them getting separated, as Lance stuck close to him and chose the role of picking up the logs and sticks and depositing them in the larger man’s arms for him to carry. They collected far more than they would probably even need for the night, and returned to start building the fire and setting up camp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was beginning to grow dark when the others finally arrived. They all looked surprised to see a fire already burning and that they’d even dragged some logs around it for benches. Arthur stared openly at the two other men, but thankfully the others were a bit more subtle with the concerned glances they sent their way. Gwaine, predictably, was the first to break the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We wondered where you’d gone,” he said, tying up his horse before plopping down on one of the seats around the fire. “You two alright?” This was asked lightly, though not without genuine concern, and Percival appreciated his casualness and the offer it provided for them not to have to make a big deal out of it. He nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sire, I’m sorry for-” Lancelot addressed Arthur, standing up from where he had been crouched near the fire. He was quickly interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lancelot, please don’t,” the king cut him off. “I’m the one who should apologize. I never should have said what I did. I didn’t know that you-” He himself was cut off from continuing his sentence by Merlin clearing his throat loudly and pointedly. “Well, I just didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Lancelot nodded to accept this apology, and sat back down. “If the two of you want to return to Camelot in the morning, no one would judge you for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That may be a good idea,” Percival said, glancing over at Lancelot.  Honestly, if either of them had been thinking straight, they should have asked to be excused from the mission before they even left. Arthur might’ve questioned why, but they could have explained it without either of them having to go to a place that would trigger flashbacks and bad memories. He was worried the other knight would insist on pressing through, and hurting himself in the process, in the interest of being there to protect his friends. Unfortunately, though, he was probably distracted enough that he wouldn’t be much help if he stayed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can send some other soldiers out to meet you in our place, to assist with capturing the raiders,” Percy suggested. Hopefully, that would be an acceptable alternative, and he breathed a sigh of relief when both Arthur and Lancelot nodded their agreement. And if Lance sent more soldiers than were strictly necessary, it was just his way of protecting the others when he couldn’t really be there for them, in the same way they would all do for him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elyan sat down beside him and casually looped an arm around his back as a gesture of support. Their friends may not have known what was happening before,  but now they did and of course they were kind about it. Merlin started cooking up a pot of soup over the fire, and when it was done he passed the bowls to Percival and Lancelot first. There was none of the judgement the two men heaped upon themselves about not having been strong enough to protect their families or being too weak to move past their pasts.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are always appreciated</p></blockquote></div></div>
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